


I’ll Show You Mine (If You Show Me Yours First)

by LiquidLobotomy



Series: A Good Man Goes to War [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Book: Shadows Rising - Madeleine Roux Spoilers, Damn good whiskey, F/M, Fairshaw, M/M, Pre-Relationship, pre-fairshaw, swapping injury stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiquidLobotomy/pseuds/LiquidLobotomy
Summary: An evening conversation between a ship’s captain and a spymaster, swapping stories of old injuries that never really had the chance to heal.Set during Shadows Rising, (mainly) before the incident in Nazmir.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw, Flynn Fairwind/Taelia Fordragon [mentioned], Mathias Shaw/Edwin VanCleef [mentioned]
Series: A Good Man Goes to War [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923286
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	I’ll Show You Mine (If You Show Me Yours First)

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended Listening: Swing Life Away - Rise Against // MGK

@}-->\--

_I'll show you mine if you show me yours first  
Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse  
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words_

Flynn Fairwind stumbled into the captain’s cabin with a roll of his left shoulder, making a beeline for the sideboard cabinet next to the estate table. He rifled through the curio, pushing a few bottles aside, coming up with his prize: a bottle of Ianto Wayfarer Doubledark whiskey he knew was parked near the back. He plucked two glasses in his other hand from the tray sitting on the credenza before turning and dropping into a chair, rolling his shoulder again.

“I thought dish duty would never end,” he groused, pouring the rich amber liquor from the deep mahogany bottle into each glass, nudging one towards the Alliance Spymaster, Mathias Shaw, who was sitting adjacent and knee deep in paperwork and ciphered missives.

“I’m not exactly sure why you’re complaining,” Shaw muttered. “You’re the one who volunteered, not that you really need to,” he pointed out, flicking a glance at the ship’s captain. He eyed the glass that was offered for a few moments before picking it up gingerly and moving it to the other side of his make-shift workspace.

“Nah, I don’t believe in all that,” Flynn scoffed. “Does a crew good to see the captain doing the same grunt work that’s expected of ‘em. None of that ‘I’m the captain so I don’t have to do fuck all’ horseshit. It makes it less likely for them to find a reason to mutiny on you.”

Shaw gave a small non-committal nod, scratching out a note on the bottom of a missive before flipping it over onto a pile to his right and pulling another in front of him for inspection. Flynn scooted down his chair a bit as he propped his feet on the table, careful not to be near the spymaster’s work. He swirled his glass before taking a sip, rolling his shoulder for a third time.

“Drink up, Mattie,” the captain quipped. “That’s some damn good, expensive whiskey and you don’t want to fall behind do you?”

The glass quill stilled. “I would request that you _don’t_ call me that,” the spymaster growled softly.

Flynn winced. "Duly noted, mate.” 

“How did that happen?” Shaw asked tentatively. Flynn caught just the barest flick of the rogue’s glance before it returned to the page.

“Wot?” 

“The shoulder.”

Flynn cleared his throat with a dismissive cough. “Not sure what you’re talking about, mate.” He took another swig of his whiskey, letting the fruity apple and touch of vanilla roll in his mouth before swallowing, the powerful and lingering smokiness washing him in a deep warmth.

Shaw let out a soft, incredulous snort, setting down his glass quill to fold his arms over his chest. “You’ve rolled it three times since you’ve come up from the mess, so it’s obviously bothering you.”

“Have I?” the captain mused with a tilt of his head. “Eh, just an old injury that flares up every once in a great long while. Nothing to worry your fancy leather corset over.”

“You mistake curiosity for worry, Fairwind.” Shaw picked up the glass to take a sip. 

“Tell you what, mate,” Flynn smirked. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours first.”

“Tell you my… what?” the spymaster asked cautiously.

“The leg,” the former pirate drolled. “You can’t tell me I didn’t see you nursing it during that squall a few nights back.”

“That,” Shaw replied, rubbing his forehead. “I split my shin when I was younger. I couldn’t have been more than… nineteen, twenty?” 

“And?” Flynn could tell he was trying to get out of sharing. He pulled his feet back underneath the table, reaching out to refill his glass before leaning against the lacquered surface.

“What do you mean, ‘ _and_ ’?” the older man retorted, narrowing his eyes and schooling his face into an impressive scowl.

“I wasn’t asking _when_ it happened,” the captain countered. “I was looking more for the _how_.”

Shaw closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I was training an operative in the woods outside of the city, and I caught my foot on a bramble of earthroot.”

“And that’s it, then?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

Flynn reached up and tugged at the patch of coarse hair covering his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “You’re a bloody liar,” he playfully accused.

“I beg your pardon?” Shaw scoffed.

“You’re telling me that the highest ranking master whatever-the-fuck-you-are of the Alliance’s spy-whatsit was out _training_ a newbie and tripped over a _bloody flower_ ,” said Flynn with a chuckle. “By the Tides, _please_ , pull the other one, mate.” 

“I wasn’t promoted to Spymaster until I was in my thirties,” Shaw protested evenly, “and yes, at the time, training operatives was part of a very long list of my expected duties.”

Flynn scanned the other man’s face as he took another swig of his whiskey. “What was her name,” he challenged.

Shaw averted his eyes, taking a swig of his own. “I don’t see how that’s relevant,” he muttered.

“Oh come on, it’s not like you’re gonna forget, seeing that you get to live with a constant reminder of it,” teased the former pirate. “Here, let’s see if I can guess.”

“I don’t think you could,” the spymaster grit. 

“Eh, it’ll be fun,” Flynn insisted. “Rose? No, you wouldn’t go for a girl with such a flowery name. Brandy? Nah, that’d be more my speed.” He scrunched up his nose in mock disgust. “Oh, Tides. Tell me it’s not something comely and maudlin like Mildred or Gertrude, is it?”

“Edwin,” Shaw quickly admitted, not lifting his eyes. 

Flynn’s mouth formed a little oh as that little piece of insight clicked into place. His face broke into a lascivious grin, biting his bottom lip. “You know, I had a feeling, mate,” he said with a waggle of his finger. “Somehow, I just knew that was the side of the mast you tied your sails to.” 

The captain watched the spymaster’s ears turn red, spreading across his cheeks as he was shot a scowling glare. 

“Yes, well,” Shaw grumbled, “it’s not like it’s important to do my job.”

“Hey, I’m not in any position to judge you,” replied Flynn, holding his hands in surrender. “Mine have been tied at both ends for quite some time.” The captain gave a half hearted shrug. “What can I say? I like people.” The lecherous grin reappeared across his lips. “But, let me just say good on you, mate, for getting that injury after a bout of the rough and tumble with good ol’ Edwin.” 

He shot the spymaster a wink, letting that sink in for the older man. He spied a short range of emotions cross his face before it was schooled back into its usual impassive expression. 

“So, you going to tell me of any of your other… sparring partners?” Flynn asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

“No,” Shaw replied evenly. “Your turn.”

“My turn for what, mate?”

“I told you mine,” the spymaster said pointedly. “You tell me yours. The shoulder.”

“Oh, yeah that.” Flynn rubbed the back of his neck. “Bar brawl down in Dampwick a few years back. Big fucker tossed me into a wall so hard it dislocated. Tried to put it back in place, but I guess it never set properly. Besides, we don’t have the same type of fancy healers you lot have to take care of it.” He tore his eyes away from Shaw to study his glass before taking another drink.

“Now who’s the fucking liar?” 

Flynn glanced back up at the other man, his breath hitching at the intensity of his glass green eyes. He pursed his lips and nodded his head. “Did your neatly organized dossier on me sitting back home on your nice desk tell you how I fucked up my shoulder then?”

“I admit that your tall tales are convincing enough to fool someone without a discerning eye,” replied Shaw. “However, for someone who’s been trained extensively in reading people, it didn’t take long to figure out your tells.”

Flynn clicked his jaw. “Human truth elixir, then.”

“Something like that.”

The captain blew out a breath and downed his drink, pouring another and gathering his thoughts. “Cyrus,” he admitted softly.

“The harbormaster?” he asked curiously. “I thought the two of you had a fairly amiable rapport.”

“I did say it was a few years ago and I didn’t lie about it being a big fucker.” Flynn shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulder hard. This time, it let an audible crack sound in the cabin. Finally, he felt the joint loosen.

“What did you do to draw his ire?” Shaw asked, taking a small sip from his glass.

The former pirate rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “He caught me fucking his squire.”

“The Fordragon girl?” the spymaster asked incredulously with a furrow in his brow.

Flynn bit the corner of his bottom lip and nodded. “Not one of my most shining moments, I’m afraid.” He gulped down a rather large swig of the whiskey, feeling a bite of the burn pass his throat. “I’d been going through a bit of a dry spell, and she was coming up. We started getting on for a few nights right when the city had issued a nightly curfew due to a surge of not-so-friendly pirate activity in the wards. We’d all but forgotten about it.”

Flynn tilted his head as he stared at the table, lost in the memory. He inhaled sharply before he continued. “When, er, Tae hadn’t returned home, Cyrus came down to the ‘ _Wake_ to ask if I’d seen her.” He rubbed his forehead with a wince. “He, er, didn’t expect to catch us mid-act in the captain’s cabin.” 

“So he roughed you up for it,” Shaw said quietly. 

“Aye, he fucked me up good, he did,” Flynn concurred. “Throwing me into a wall, that wasn’t a lie either. He stopped when he saw my arm dangling at my side. I was a right bloody mess, too. There I was, eye swollen shut and naked as the day I was born, with not much of a shred of dignity left. He came back to himself enough to set my arm back into its socket and practically push Taelia out the door. That little tryst ended that night and she went back to just being my adopted little sister.” 

“And you never saw a healer.” It wasn’t a question.

The captain shook his head. “Nah, it’s a bit of a reminder not to fuck where I eat, if you catch my meaning.” He knocked back the last of the whiskey in his glass. “The reasoning’s probably not much different than yours.” 

“Perhaps,” Shaw said absently. 

Flynn rubbed his bottom lip once more before inhaling a sharp breath. “Right then,” he announced as he lifted from his chair. “Think I’ll go up and take a watch.” He placed the glass on the sideboard curio, off to the side so it could be washed later. “I’ll leave you to it, mate. Just do me a solid and not waste that whiskey. It cost me a pretty coin.”

“Wait.” The older man rose and crossed over to his pack near the bed. He rifled through it until he pulled out a small metal tin and placed it on the table. 

“Wassat?” the captain asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Salve,” Shaw replied with a nod of his head. “For your shoulder.”

Flynn plucked the tin from the table, stowing it into a pocket of his greatcoat. “Thanks, mate.” 

He ducked out of the room with a salute, heading topside. When the crisp air hit his face, he leaned against the chestnut wood next to the door, his breath coming in short soft gasps. He pulled the tin out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. 

“Well, that’s good to know,” he muttered to himself. His mind went through several split second fantasies of what he’d like to do to the stuffy old spymaster and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I might just have a chance, after all.”

  


@}-->\--

_Love is looking out a windowpane  
Tears dripping looking like you're in the rain  
For someone you don't even know  
But for somebody you may never see again_

Mathias woke from his light slumber on a hard slab of gold, remembering his current surroundings. He winced as he tried to roll onto his side, his shin squealing like the damned. He picked up the thick blade of grass he had left near his head and twirled it between his fingers, wondering fleetingly if a certain ship’s captain’s shoulder was bothering him as much as his own old injury was.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours first,” he muttered to himself before closing his eyes to try for sleep.

@}-->\--

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) I have not [actually] listened to the MGK version, but I found that line when I was confirming the lyrics for the Rise Against version.
> 
> 2.) This was actually supposed to be something COMPLETELY different, and I wasn't lying when I said I needed a bit of a writing break. But, Flynn wouldn't leave me alone and this happened. 
> 
> Comments welcomed and appreciated, you have all been so amazing and lovely. <3


End file.
